


Aladdin's Hooch

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Gen, Secret Stashes, inebriation, secret rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28769844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Peter becomes concerned about Neal’s drinking habits.
Relationships: Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Aladdin's Hooch

June knocked softly on Neal’s loft door. “Darling, I hate to bother you, but it seems as if there is some sort of electrical problem in the house. In the past few days, circuit breakers keep tripping when the maid turns on the vacuum cleaner, and I’ve also noticed that the lights flicker at times.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Neal replied.

“Yes, I agree,” June said worriedly. “So, I’ve called an electrician to come and have a look at the wiring and the outlets. He should be here later today. I just wanted to make you aware that a stranger may be poking around in your space while you’re at work. Perhaps you may want to put a few things away.”

Neal grinned. “Thanks for the heads-up, June. Perhaps a _few things_ should disappear temporarily. I’ll call Mozzie to make that happen.”

When Neal returned home later that evening, June updated her boarder. “The electrician claims the wiring is out of date and doesn’t meet the current codes and standards. Unfortunately, that means that he has to get inside some walls to replace various components—technical things that mean absolutely nothing to me.”

“Are you going to get another professional opinion?” Neal asked.

“I don’t think so,” June mused. “He comes highly recommended and he’s licensed and bonded. He’s also very expensive, not that cost indicates quality. He wants to charge me an arm and a leg to remove the wall off the kitchen since the junction box is located there.”

Neal accompanied his landlady downstairs where she pointed out a pantry that contained the questionable panel. The young boarder tapped on the walls until he found the studs. “You know what, June? I’ll bet Mozzie and I could easily open up this wall for you, and we come very cheap. Just feed us lunch and we’re happy.”

That weekend, Mozzie appeared looking like _Bob the Builder_ with his denim overalls, yellow hard hat, and toolbelt. _“Demo Day,”_ he sang out like the rehab experts on those fixer-upper television shows.

“No sledge hammer for you,” Neal cautioned as he stood, hands on hips, in his own less flamboyant jeans and t-shirt. “I have a reciprocating saw that I’m going to use to cut through the wooden paneling. That means a lot less mess.”

Mozzie was deep in thought as he leaned against a nearby counter. “It seems a little strange that this wall is made out of wood, while the rest of the mansion’s walls are solid plaster.”

Suddenly, Neal and his coworker looked at one another with their eyebrows raised. It didn’t take long for two men of a similar nefarious mind to find the hidden, recessed spring-loaded trigger. When a piece of metal molding under the sink was depressed, the pantry’s rear wall easily slid back to reveal a fairly spacious dark room with shelving.

Mozzie immediately turned on his hardhat’s light and stepped forward. “I feel like a miner or an urban spelunker,” he quipped as he stepped inside the recess.

Neal peered in after his friend. “Any sign of Jimmy Hoffa, Moz?”

“Just give me a second, Neal, I’m still looking!” Neal then heard the little bald man start to giggle.

“C’mon, Moz, what did you find in Aladdin’s Cave? It must be something good, or at least amusing.”

“I found the mother lode, mon frère! By my rough count, there’s at least 60 or 70 bottles of bootleg hooch nestled in wooden boxes. There’s labels attached that identify it as from the 1920s during Prohibition.”

June had meandered into the room to view the morning’s progress. When she saw the secret chamber, she didn’t look the least bit surprised. “Byron always was a sly one,” she murmured fondly. “And he was also a collector of some very esoteric things.”

“Well, this stash of curiosities is very rare,” Mozzie informed her as he sauntered out of the hidden niche. “I don’t know what your husband originally paid for this haul, but in today’s market, you could probably get big bucks. I actually know a guy who may be very interested in taking them off your hands.”

“For this old rotgut?” June remarked cynically. “It would probably eat away the lining of one’s stomach if one were foolish enough to drink it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day, Peter made an impromptu visit to Neal’s loft. It never hurt to check on a paroled felon’s activities on his days off, especially when he wasn’t answering his phone. Neal’s anklet data showed him to be home, but when nobody responded to his knock, Peter boldly eased open the door. What he saw was a strange picture. Neal and Mozzie were sprawled out on the bed and the couch, respectively. It seemed out of character that Neal hadn’t heard Peter’s entry. He was usually as sensitive as a cat. A worried handler walked over to his CI and firmly shook his arm, but the con man was dead to the world and merely moaned softly. The puzzle was solved when Peter then detected the strong odor of alcohol engulfing his partner.

“What the hell?” a dumfounded Peter murmured to himself. Neal, usually a fussy, restrained imbiber of expensive wine, was drunk out of his mind by early afternoon. Had the sophisticated tippling thing simply been an act for Peter’s benefit? Had the con man cleverly hidden the hangovers behind his usual suave façade? A concerned handler was well aware that his partner always kept secrets, and this one was bad and it needed to be nipped in the bud before it spiraled out of control. When a snockered young man sobered up, there was going to be an intervention followed by a serious discussion about the merits of AA.


End file.
